Mutual Pain
by AvengerRose
Summary: Sebastian and John had met a year after Sherlock's and Moriarty's deaths. They had met on the very same rooftop that had taken the geniuses from them. It had seemed rather fitting that Sebastian had a gun as he sat on the ledge and John had come to jump off.
1. Chapter 1

John tapped the table and looked at the door for what must have been the twentieth time in the last ten minutes. He took a sip of water and his hand went to his pocket, wrapping around the ring box. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes to try and calm himself.

"You alright there, soldier?" a familiar voice said. A grin spread across John's face as he opened his eyes and looked at the man sitting across from him.

"I'm fine, Sebastian," he replied. Sebastian smiled and folded his hands in a nervous habit. "You're late."

"I got caught up with something," he said. "They tried to stop me from quitting."

Sebastian and John had met a year after Sherlock's and Moriarty's deaths. They had met on the very same rooftop that had taken the geniuses from them. It had seemed rather fitting that Sebastian had a gun as he sat on the ledge and John had come to jump off.

After talking, they began seeing more of each other. It was Sebastian who asked John out first. After that, things fell into place. Sebastian had agreed to quit his job as an assassin and John spent more time at Sebastian's flat than 221B. It all had led up to this moment right now.

"I can't imagine that was very good," John said. He fingered the ring box and took another deep breathe.

"Anyway, you said there was something you wanted to ask me?" Sebastian asked, a bit of hope glittering in his eyes. John loved that expression. Sebastian rarely had it but those few times made John absolutely giddy inside, a feeling that he had lost after Sherlock's fall.

"Yes," John said, pulling the box out of his pocket. "Sebastian, you and I get on great and I feel…"

"Good evening, monsieurs," a waiter said as he appeared out of seemingly nowhere. Both men exchanged frustrated looks. "Can I interest you in a bottle of our very best wine?"

"No," John said shortly. Sebastian twirled his glass in his fingers and shrugged before holding it up. The waiter filled it and turned back to John.

"I must insist, sir," he said. "It reminds you of someone. Like a face right from the past."

John rubbed his forehead tiredly and Sebastian watched him with a mix between amusement and his own annoyance.

"He said he's fine so leave, pal," he said. The waiter paused and there was a brief moment where they both thought that he would leave. Then he knocked over a cup of water that splashed over John's lap. He jumped to his feet and turned to the waiter, intent on yelling. The words were caught in his throat when he saw his face.

"Oh my God," he whispered.

"Hello, John," Sherlock smiled. Suddenly, John's fist connected with his nose and Sebastian was on his feet to wrap his arms around John's waist to keep him from lunging at the man.

"John, hey, not here," he whispered. "Wait, okay? No use causing a scene."

John slowly calmed down and a man came over, telling them they had to leave. Sebastian kept a tight grip around John as he led him out and Sherlock followed them slowly.

Once they were outside, Sebastian let go of John and crossed his arms as he yelled at Sherlock.

"Three bloody years, Sherlock!" he screamed. "I mourned you, we all did, and now you just come waltzing back into my life? I don't think so!"

"John, you have to hear me out," Sherlock insisted.

"No I don't!" John snapped. "You left me and now I want you to bloody stay gone!"

He stormed off and Sebastian studied Sherlock with a sad expression.

"You faked your death," he stated. Sherlock looked over at him and looked him over, assessing who he was in an instant.

"He's dead," he said gruffly and turned away. Sebastian sighed and followed John. He caught up and wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

"That bloody idiot," John mumbled. "He thinks that he can just come back and everything would be fine."

"You've dreamed about this day, John," Sebastian said. He kissed John's temple and his voice dropped to a whisper. "I know because I've dreamed about Jim coming back."

John's breath caught in his throat and he stopped walking. Sebastian looked at him curiously and John took his hands in his. They were quiet for a moment as John stared at their hands. He slowly looked up and met Sebastian's eyes.

"This doesn't change anything," he stated, squeezing his hands. "I still love you, Sebastian. Nothing will change that."

"I love you too, John," he said. "But I know that you want to be with him now."

"No, I want to be with you," he said. He let go and reached into his pocket. He pulled out the ring box and presented it to Sebastian. "This isn't how I wanted to do it but I would love for you to marry me, Colonel."

Sebastian stared at the box and took it, opening it to reveal a simple gold band. He looked at John and smiled.

"It would be an honor, Captain," he said. John smiled wider than he had in a long time. Sebastian pulled him into a kiss and it was good… What they had was good.

They both knew the other's heart didn't belong to them. They belonged to two very stubborn, insufferable geniuses. They made do. They had let themselves fall into what couldn't be called love but a mutual need to be with someone who knew their struggles.

No, it wasn't love that kept them together. John realized that when he had seen Sherlock and he knew Sebastian knew it too.

It was their pain.


	2. Chapter 2

John couldn't fall asleep that night. Instead, he was pacing in the living room of Sebastian's flat. His mind was moving quickly and he didn't notice Sebastian was up until his arms wrapped around his waist. He closed his eyes and placed his hands over Sebastian's, allowing himself to be lost in the feeling of someone holding him.

"John, I know you're thinking of him," he whispered into John's hair. Tears pricked John's eyes and he turned and buried his face in Sebastian's chest. "You need to talk to him. I'm sure he has a good reason for doing it."

John found himself unable to speak. He just let the tears fall and Sebastian felt him shaking from holding in sobs.

"Three years," he finally muttered. "Three bloody years and he just comes back without so much as a hint that he's alive. Who does he bloody think he is?"

Sebastian didn't say anything and a tear slid down his cheek. He didn't yell at John for being a fool and staying here when he should be back at Baker Street with Sherlock. Instead, his grip tightened around the doctor and they stood like that for a long while.

"John, I want you to listen to me," he finally said, holding him at arm's length. John stared at him and nodded. "Call him. See what he has to say."

John hesitated and nodded slowly. He knew Sherlock would be up. Of course he would, he's Sherlock bleeding Holmes. He took his phone and called the number he had never really deleted. When Sherlock picked up, the sound of his voice brought fresh tears to his eyes.

"John," Sherlock said, like he was saying a prayer.

"Sherlock," he said, voice cracking. "We need to talk."

"Tomorrow?" Sherlock suggested. "You can come to Baker Street."

"Alright," he muttered, closing his eyes. He didn't want to hang up just yet. He felt the comforting weight of Sebastian's hand on his bicep. "I just… tomorrow. Get some sleep, Sherlock."

"You too," was the reply. "I'll see you tomorrow."

John was grateful for that reassurance. He didn't think he could handle anything else. He hung up and allowed Sebastian to lead him to bed. He stared blankly ahead and curled up around himself. It was only when he realized that Sebastian hadn't moved that he looked up.

"Are you coming to bed?" he asked. Sebastian hesitated and shook his head.

"Nah, I need to do something," he stated, not looking at John. "I'll be right back."

John curled back up and Sebastian slipped out of the room. He walked down the hall to a room and opened the door.

The room wasn't as plain as the rest of the flat. A few posters lined the blue walls and a desk was neatly tucked into one corner, organized so nicely it could make a person cry. The bed was made, not a wrinkle or crease in the fabric. Under the pillow was a gun, one that Sebastian had become increasingly acquainted with during the year after Moriarty's death.

Sebastian looked around the room and felt his chest tighten. He walked to the desk and looked down at the phone on it. His work phone. The one he had been given specifically to receive his jobs. There hadn't been any received phone calls on it since that day. Jim had called that day just before Sherlock had gone onto the roof. Sebastian could remember the conversation with frightening clarity.

 _"_ _What's wrong, boss?" he asked, eyes trained on the slim figure through his scope. He heard a slight chuckle._

 _"_ _Nothing is wrong, tiger," Moriarty said in that infuriatingly airy way he usually reserved for his clients. "I just wanted to make sure you knew the plan."_

 _"_ _We've gone over it six times, sir," Sebastian sighed. There was a pause._

 _"_ _Tell me again, Seb," he said._

 _"_ _I am to watch the conversation between you and Holmes. If he doesn't jump, I'm to shoot Dr. Watson," he recited. "After that, I bring the car to pick you up."_

 _"_ _Very good, Sebby," he said and there was a slight strain to his voice. "You're good at what you do, tiger. It's an honor to have you working for me."_

 _Sebastian's heart quickened. He recognized that tone. He'd heard it in soldier's who thought they were going to die._

 _"_ _Jim, this sounds like a goodbye," he said. There was no reply. "Jim? Boss?"_

 _"_ _Sherlock's coming, tiger," he said. "I have to go."_

 _He hung up and Sebastian was on his feet. He tried to call him back but his boss wasn't answering, letting that awful ringtone play. He probably thought it added drama._

 _The gunshot haunted Sebastian's dreams._

Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut to stop the flow of tears. He sat at the desk and put his head in his hands. He looked down at the black flip phone and picked it up. He clicked the only number in the contacts and held it to his ear. The message tone played and he choked back a sob.

"Hey, boss. Been a few weeks. I thought I should tell you, John and I are engaged. He asked and I accepted. Nice ring. He tried to ask me over a fancy dinner but Sherlock showed up. Yeah, the bastard is still alive. I don't know how. He jumped of a bloody roof. John punched him," he chuckled. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breathe. "If you're faking too, you better have a bloody good reason. I won't be nearly as accepting as John. A phone call or text or something would be nice."

He hung up and put it back on the desk. He put his face back in his hands and took another breath. The phone rang and _Eye of the Tiger_ blared through the room. He jumped and scrambled to grab it. He looked at the text and his heart stopped.

 _Congratulations, Tiger. xo JM._


	3. Chapter 3

John stared at the door. He thought back to how empty it had felt just two days ago. The silence had been maddening and yet here he was and he was going to walk in and Sherlock was going to be sitting in his chair with his fingers steepled as he thought. John almost broke down right there. Sebastian was standing behind him, jaw set and eyes dead.

"You have to go in," he said. John nodded and looked up at the windows. He saw Sherlock staring at him and he blinked a few times. Finally he walked forward and opened the door. He glanced back at Sebastian to see he hadn't moved.

"Are you coming in?" he asked. Sebastian glanced up and then shook his head.

"You two need to talk without me there," he said. "I'll be up in a minute."

John nodded and went up the steps. Sherlock was waiting for him. He was facing the door with an expression that looked both hesitant and ecstatic. John felt more tears and walked up to Sherlock. He brought his hand back like he was going to punch him again and Sherlock just held his eyes.

"You bloody idiot," he said, letting his hand drop. "I saw you... I checked your pulse. How…"

"You're a smart man, John," Sherlock said. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

John shook his head.

"I doubt I ever will," he said. Sherlock shrugged and looked around. He walked around the flat and John watched him, half waiting to wake up and this all to be a dream.

"I see you haven't moved out," he said, placing a hand on the back of John's chair.

"It's a good flat," John said. Sherlock arched an eyebrow.

"You haven't slept here in weeks, John," he stated. John shrugged and looked away.

"I've been staying with Sebastian," he said. "We both think it's better not to have an empty flat."

"Yes, Moran," Sherlock muttered, looking incredibly peeved at the thought. "Why him of all people?"

"He's a good man," John frowned.

"John, he worked for Moriarty. He's killed people," Sherlock frowned, crossing his arms.

"People change, Sherlock," he said. Sherlock opened his mouth and he held up his hand, making Sherlock fall silent. "I don't care what you say, Sherlock. I love Sebastian and I'm going to marry him. End of story."

"You're going to marry him?" Sherlock frowned, looking slightly hurt.

"Yes," John said, ignoring the expression on Sherlock's face. "I was going to propose at the restaurant when I was interrupted. Then I proposed on the way home while I was still pissed at you."

"Do you love him, John?" Sherlock asked. John looked away and Sherlock took a step forward. "John?"

"Yes, Sherlock. I love him," he finally said.

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" Sherlock asked. John hesitated.

"You," he said finally, crossing his arms. "I'm trying to convince you."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Why didn't he come in?" He asked.

"He said we should talk alone," John replied. Sherlock glanced out the window and then back at John.

"Bring him up here. I want to speak with him," he said. John frowned for a moment before nodding. He went out the door and Sherlock looked back out the window.

Sebastian was leaning against the wall with a cigarette between his lips. He drew the smoke into his lungs and pulled it away to exhale. His phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket warily.

 _Smoking is bad for you, Tiger. xo JM._

Sebastian's eyes widened and he started coughing violently. He dropped the cigarette and texted the number back. He looked around, trying to determine where Jim could be.

"Sebastian? Are you okay?"

He looked over at John and blinked a few times. He nodded and glanced back around.

"I'm fine," he said, looking back at John. He smiled a little shakily. "How'd it go?"

John smiled a little as Sebastian wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

"He hasn't changed," John said. "and yet… he has at the same time."

Sebastian smiled and pressed a kiss to John's temple. They both felt odd and that this was wrong and yet they were still clinging to each other.

"He wants to speak with you," John said. Sebastian looked down at him in surprise.

"Me? Why?" He asked. John worried at his lip with his teeth and shrugged.

"I don't know," he said. "I didn't bother to ask."

Sebastian's lip quirked up and he shook his head.

"Best not keep him waiting then, yeah?" he said. John looked up at him in surprise.

"You really want to?" he asked. "I mean…"

"Yes, John, I really want to," Sebastian said. He rook John's hand and brought it up to place a kiss to the back of it. "We should at least try to get along."

John smiled and kissed Sebastian's cheek. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve a man like Sebastian but he was thankful nonetheless. He led Sebastian into the flat and found Sherlock standing by the window.

He'd been watching them, Sebastian specifically. He was looking for hints that Sebastian had any ill intentions with Sebastian but there was none he could find. He couldn't tell if he was happy for John or upset with the discovery. Now the man stood in front of him and he let himself look over him. There was nothing to indicate that he didn't love John and yet a firm feeling sat in Sherlock's stomach that something was not right.

"Sebastian," he said, moving forward with his hand extended. They shook hands, a genuine smile on Sebastian's face. It was small; the smile probably stemming from the fact that the man had his hand intertwined with John's rather than meeting Sherlock.

"It's nice to meet you, Sherlock," Sebastian said, the words heavy on his tongue. "I've heard a lot about you."

He stopped and Sherlock saw the corner of John's mouth twitch down. They hadn't talked about him often then. Had Sebastian heard things from Moriarty then? It was completely possible.

"I'm sure you have," Sherlock smirked. Sebastian looked down uncomfortably. "I must say that it is a pleasure to meet you as well."

Sebastian nodded, still avoiding eye contact, and Sherlock hesitated for a moment.

"John, might we have a moment?" Sherlock asked, looking at the smaller man. John raised an eyebrow and looked between them.

"Uh, yeah, okay," he said. "I'll go make some tea."

He went to the kitchen and Sherlock paused, watching him and then turning back to Sebastian.

"I would like to thank you," he said and Sebastian looked at him in surprise, finally meeting his eyes.

"Thank me? For what?" he asked.

"For taking care of John," Sherlock said. "I neglected to consider what my death would do to him but… I realize now, had it not been for you, he probably wouldn't have been here to punch me."

"Of course," Sebastian said, rubbing the back of his neck a bit awkwardly. A soft smile spread across his face. "He's great. He's really helped me with…" he paused and looked away quickly. "Everything."

"He tends to do that," Sherlock muttered. He looked at Sebastian and shook his head. "No matter. You two are engaged. I believe there is a wedding to be planned."


	4. Chapter 4

It was quiet throughout the flat, the only sound being the crackling of fire. Sherlock and John sat in their respective chairs, a comfortable silence stretching across them. Sebastian had gone home just an hour prior at John's insistence when he had nearly fallen asleep on the couch. He'd given John a kiss, wished Sherlock a goodnight, and left without saying a thing against John staying there. He understood the reasons and John would forever be grateful for that.

"I'm glad that you and Sebastian get along," he commented. The corner of Sherlock's lip twitched ever so slightly.

"I'd say it was more that we reached an agreement," he stated. John lifted an eyebrow.

"And what would that be?"

"Your happiness."

John looked up at him to see that small loving smile that used to send his heart racing. Now there was nothing but a small dull ache. He looked away again quickly and swallowed thickly. His mind was racing. He thought of the past three years and that day that seemed so much farther away now that Sherlock sat in front of him again. He blinked back sudden tears and met Sherlock's eyes once more.

"Why'd you do it?" he asked voice not nearly as even as he had wanted it to appear. Sherlock's eyes filled with such intense emotion that John physically gasped as he glanced between them. Sherlock was the first to look away, looking around the flat and settling his gaze at the yellow smiling face. The silence was suddenly thick and Sherlock felt as though he might choke on it.

"Why I did it is of no importance," he said with his voice wavering. If John hadn't grown accustomed to Sherlock's many mannerisms, he would have missed the way his voice was drawn tight and his hands shook ever so slightly. "That was three years ago and I'm sure neither of us wish to relive it."

He was right, as always. John had no wish to relive that day. He wanted to forget it and move on but found himself hanging onto it. He had no idea as to why he was and he shook the odd sense off, instead turning back to his friend -his best friend- and the statement forming on his lips before he could even think to stop it. Not that he wanted to.

"So, for the wedding," he said carefully. "I'll need a best man."

Sherlock frowned, still not looking at John as he thought.

"Gavin?" he offered. At John's blank look, he continued. "Gavin Lestrade. He's a man and good at it."

"Okay, first it's _Greg_ ," John said, leaning forward to lean his elbows on his knees. "Second, he isn't my best friend."

Another frown creased Sherlock's mouth as he thought again.

"Mike Stamford?" he asked, looking down at his thoughts as he

"I want you to be my best man," he said. Sherlock's reaction was instantaneous. He rounded to look at John, his mouth opened to say something, and… he froze. John blinked for a moment at him and slowly furrowed his eyebrows. "Uh, Sherlock?"

No response. John could practically see the thoughts whizzing about Sherlock's head and he felt as though it would have been appropriate if smoke started coming out his ears.

"That's getting a bit scary now," John muttered. Finally, it seemed that Sherlock's brain cleared and he blinked rapidly for a moment.

"So, in fact," he began, his words coming falteringly and unsure. "You-you mean…"

"Yes."

"I'm your…" he said, furrowing his eyebrows like he was struggling over a rather difficult. "Best…"

"Man," John said and at the near same time Sherlock said, "Friend."

John gave him a surprised look and nodded, smiling gently.

"Yeah, course you are," he said. "Course you're my best friend."

Sherlock nodded and blinked a few more times. He shook his head and returned John's soft smile. John considered him his best friend. Suddenly, the horrors of the last three years felt a lot less potent.

Sebastian, unfortunately, was having a much more rough time that night. He was curled in the bed, eyes closed tightly and jaw clenched. He hadn't had nightmares since John had practically moved in and yet here he was, his mind filled with the ghastly images that always made his heart ache for the person he had long since thought dead. He didn't know whether he was relieved or terrified at the prospect of it just being a trick.

The phone sat on the nightstand next to the bed and he turned to look at it, somehow willing it to ring. It didn't and Sebastian tried to convince himself that it wasn't disappointment that was curling its way into his chest. It was far too quiet for his taste, by now used to John's quiet snores or occasional nonsensical muttering. He missed it.

"Oh, for God's sake," he shouted as he sat up in the bed. He threw the blanket off and got out of the bed, stalking to the kitchen. He opened the fridge to grab a beer but paused when he heard something. It sounded like… keys? Someone trying to unlock the door?

He checked the time. Half past one. Surely it couldn't be John? He froze, thinking of who it could be. There was only one other option but Sebastian refused to think of it. Finally, he could take it and walked towards the door and unlocking it before throwing it open. He stared at the man that stood in front of him, a wide if somewhat sheepish smile across the man's face.

"Hello, tiger," he purred.


	5. Chapter 5

Sebastian stared at Jim. A million things passed through his mind but his reflexes acted before he made a decision. His fist connected with Jim's jaw before he realized what was happening. Jim was knocked off balance and fell backwards flat on his back. He closed his eyes and brought his hand up to rub at his jaw.

"Was that really necessary?" he asked. Sebastian blinked for a moment and then crossed his arms.

"Yes," he stated. "You're lucky that's all you got."

Jim sat up slowly, hand still pressed to his jaw. "I guess you missed me."

Sebastian rolled his eyes as Jim got to his feet unsteadily. He moved his jaw slightly and rubbed at it again. Sebastian watched him, emotions rolling through him like a tidal wave. He had no idea how he felt or what to say. Or if he should say anything.

"You were holding back," Jim commented, thankfully breaking the silence.

"My mistake," Sebastian said coldly. He turned to walk back into the flat with Jim trailing after him.

"Aww, don't be like that, tiger," Jim said. Sebastian finally turned to face him and Jim was taken aback by the pure rage written across his face.

"Stop calling me that," he snapped and Jim took a step back. He'd crossed a line. A line that had been in place since they met and he'd vowed to never cross again. "You don't get to pretend everything is fine. This isn't something I can just forgive!"

"Sebastian, you're being unreasonable," Jim tried. Of course, that only served to worsen Sebastian's temper. How _dare_ he say that Sebastian was the unreasonable one like he hadn't put him through agony the past few years?

"Unreasonable? It was three bloody years," Sebastian shouted, his hands curling fists. "And never a hint that you were alive. Only when Sherlock came back did you say anything."

Tears pricked Sebastian's eyes but he didn't really care at that moment. Jim stared at him, worried that with Sebastian's temper he might actually find himself dead. He had never found himself so terrified before, let alone of Sebastian.

"Seb, please," Jim said, taking another step back despite the fact that Sebastian hadn't moved. "I was busy fixing the mess Sherlock was making of the empire."

Sebastian turned away and raked a hand through his hair as he squeezed his eyes shut to stop the hot angry tears. He wiped them away as Jim stared at him. He wasn't used to such raw emotion coming from Sebastian and he had no idea how to react. Unfortunately, Sebastian had already decided he was done with Jim was done for the night.

"I'm going to bed," he said in an emotionless voice. "I haven't touched your room. Sleep there."

With that, he disappeared into his room and Jim was alone, just as he had been for the last three years. He took a deep breath and pushed the emotions that threatened to surface down. He walked towards his room and opened the door slowly. True to Sebastian's word, the room was the same as he had left it. He walked towards the bed and ran a hand over it.

"I'm sorry, Seb," he muttered, closing his eyes as he sat down. It seemed so stupid now. All of it. He didn't care that his empire was ruined; that Sherlock had beat him at his own game; that the world no longer cared that he could have ruled it. All he cared about was the pain in Sebastian's voice and the anger in his eyes when he saw Jim. He'd give anything to have Sebastian look at him with that same adoration he used to before, to speak to him with that tone that meant he would follow Jim to the ends of the earth if he asked. Hell, he'd give anything to have Sebastian watch him with that guarded look he'd had when they first met. Anything but that betrayal that edged both now.

Jim didn't sleep that night. Instead, he paced that room, his phone in hand as he listened to the messages Sebastian had left through the years. It was his routine, the one that had kept him going. He could hear it; the loyalty he'd taken for granted. Sebastian talked about everything even though he'd thought Jim was dead. Jim had no idea why and the sentiment of the action brought a lump to his throat. He'd probably never hear that voice that voice again.

When the sun came up, it found him sitting on his bed with his knees drawn up and his forehead pressed against them. He heard Sebastian leave his room and quiet murmurs as he talked to someone on the phone. John, probably. A slice of jealousy cut into Jim's stomach as he listened. There it was; that tone he'd grown so accustomed to. The one that would never be directed to him again.

"How'd he take it?" Sebastian asked as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

"He malfunctioned," John chuckled, making Sebastian smile softly. "Honestly, he was so surprised. I don't think he'd ever considered it."

"Well, that's how it is. He isn't really very human like, is he?"

"I suppose not. Anyway, how was your night, love?"

Sebastian paused and took a sip of his coffee as the memories of last night trickled back into his mind. He sighed and put the mug down to rub a hand over his face.

"Jim came back," he said, voice thick with emotion. There was silence on the other end and Sebastian closed his eyes. This was all wrong.

"Mor- uh, Jim? He's alive? I thought he shot himself?"

"And we thought Sherlock jumped off the building. Guess neither of them could just stay dead."

"Are you okay, Sebastian? How'd you take it?"

"I punched him. And then I yelled. And then I cried."

"You're allowed to. Honestly, I'm surprised that's all he got away with what with your temper."

A chuckle left Sebastian's lips as he leaned against the counter. Something about John calmed him and he honestly didn't think that he could have survived as long as he had without him. There was another long pause and Sebastian heard Sherlock's voice in the background.

"I have to go. I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Yeah," Sebastian agreed.

"I love you," John said. "Try not to kill Jim."

"I'll try," he chuckled. "I love you, too."


	6. Chapter 6

John hung up the phone and pulled it away from his ear, staring at it for a moment before turning back to Sherlock. The detective was bustling about the flat, checking this and that as he muttered to himself and occasionally saying something at John. He finally stopped when John stopped talking on the phone.

"Done?" he asked, sounding put off at the prospect of John not paying attention. So, his normal self. "Anything interesting happen to Sebastian through the night?"

"Well, I guess you could say that," John stated, frowning at the phone in his hand. He looked up at Sherlock, who now seemed a bit confused. "Moriarty is back."

Sherlock paused, turning to look at John with a frown.

"That's impossible," he said. John raised an eyebrow.

"Says the man that jumped off the roof," he commented. Sherlock frowned, shaking his head.

"I watched him shoot himself. I was right there," he said. "There is no possible way to survive a gunshot to the head."

"I can find out, if you like," John said. Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at him. "He'll probably tell Sebastian how he did it and I could ask him."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sat heavily in his chair. John knew Sherlock didn't like Sebastian, or maybe just the entire situation. John stood up from his own chair and walked towards the kitchen. He made some tea and came back to see Sherlock with his fingers steepled and that faraway look in his eyes. John remained entirely quiet as he sipped his tea and watched as Sherlock navigated his mind palace.

Sherlock had a room dedicated to Moriarty. He'd often come back to it to analyze a piece of information he might have overlooked. One thing that would never be deleted was the day they both "died." He'd gone over it a million times, searching for a loophole he had missed and driving himself near insanity with trying to find something.

Now, though, he was searching for something different. He was looking for some indication as to how Moriarty did it. He let out a growl in frustration as he examined everything, ruffling through documents he had placed their conversation on and examining every gesture Jim had made. He'd already determined that he could have prevented Moriarty from shooting himself but there was no indication as to how he'd faked his death.

"This is impossible," Sherlock growled. John looked up as Sherlock fixed him in a glare. "How do you know Sebastian was telling the truth?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, John. He's a criminal. You say he's changed but maybe my return triggered something. Or maybe he's just plain lost it."

John gave him a flat look and John returned it easily. He got to his feet and strode to the kitchen, dumping the rest of his tea and placing the mug in the sink. He then walked to the door and grabbed his coat.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

" _We_ ," John said pointed. "Are going to Sebastian's flat."

Sherlock didn't move and John looked at him expectantly.

"Well? Do you want to go to Moriarty's flat or what?" he asked.

"Oh God yes," Sherlock sat, standing up almost immediately. The most dangerous criminal in London may be alive. How fun.

Said criminal came out of his room at ten, hair mussed and dark circles under his eyes prominent. Almost as prominent as the bruise that now graced his jaw. Sebastian looked at him over the book he was reading and felt guilt burn through him as Jim shuffled past him and towards the coffeemaker. It was silent as Sebastian quickly lowered his gaze back to his book.

The silence was stifling as Jim sipped his coffee, the only sound the turning of pages and their breath. The tension hung in the air as thick as a wool blanket. You could cut it with a knife and Jim wanted nothing more than to rid all of it. He slammed his cup down and some of the still hot liquid splashed onto his hand, making him hiss in pain. Sebastian looked up, eyebrows raised.

"You okay?" he asked. Jim nodded as he cleaned it up. He wasn't burnt; there was just slightly pinker spot on his hand where the liquid had been. He sighed and hung his head as he leaned against the counter. He turned back to Sebastian and walked towards him, sitting on the chair across from where he was sprawled on the sofa.

"So you're getting married," he commented into his mug. Sebastian frowned, glancing up. "To John Watson. How exciting."

"What are you getting at?" Sebastian asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I didn't know you were the type to settle down," he shrugged. Sebastian looked at him flatly and looked back down.

"Things changed."

"How long did you wait after I was dead?"

Sebastian's jaw tightened but his eyes didn't leave the page. They stopped moving though, indicating that he had stopped reading. He swallowed once, sighing through his nose.

"A year," he finally said, like it was being forced out of him. Jim raised an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly.

Had it really been that difficult for Sebastian to get over it? Here he was, sitting in the same room as him and very much _alive_ and... Sebastian was tense, far tenser then Jim has ever seen him – and he's seen Sebastian almost die. Multiple times. He tilted his head as he studied the sniper – ex-sniper? He wasn't sure.

Jim shook his head and sighed, finishing his coffee and standing up to put it in the kitchen. He realized with a jolt that he had no idea who Sebastian was anymore. The realization made him put the mug on the counter sharply, causing a loud crack to ring through the flat as it broke in half. The sound caused Sebastian to look up warily.

"You okay there, boss?" he asked, words falling out of his mouth on reflex. Jim stared at the broken mug and shook his head. It was just a stupid word, a stupid title.

"I'm fine," he said curtly. He put his hands on the counter and hung his head. He could feel tears and angrily brushed them away. He heard Sebastian move and walk towards him. He tensed as he felt Sebastian's presence behind him. "I said I'm fine."

He hated how his voice cracked and he gritted his teeth together. Why could Sebastian drag such emotions out of him? He wasn't supposed to have such weaknesses and yet here was this ordinary man that seemed to be able to change that. No, not ordinary. His ex-second-in-command, the best shot he'd ever seen, the man he'd died to protect.

He didn't move as Sebastian cleaned up the broken mug. He kept his gaze down and suddenly Sebastian was leading him to the couch. He didn't say anything as they sat down, arm wrapped around Jim's shoulders. A tear slid down Jim's cheek and he wiped it away impatiently. The last time Jim had cried was three years ago when he'd realized what he'd done to Sebastian. And now he was crying for the same man.

"I've lost you," he suddenly stated, making Sebastian look down at him. "I might as well actually be dead."

"You haven't lost me," Sebastian said gently. Jim shook his head, pulling out of Sebastian's grip.

"I don't even know who you are anymore," he said irritably as he stood up. Sebastian reached for him, grabbing his wrist. Jim looked down at the contact. His wrist, not his hand. He directed his gaze to Sebastian's eyes, his own holding no emotions.

"It's been three years," Sebastian said gently. "You can't expect me to have stayed the same."

Jim stared at him for a moment before ripping his wrist out of Sebastian's grip. He sighed through his nose and turned his back towards him.

"I'm going for a walk," he stated, grabbing his coat. He pulled it on as Sebastian watched him sadly. He didn't look back as he left, slamming the door behind him.


	7. Chapter 7

Sherlock followed John to Sebastian's flat, the shorter of the two excited to see his fiancé. He opened the door; not bothering to knock as he practically lived there. He was a bit surprised to see Sebastian lying on the couch with his book sitting on his chest, staring at the ceiling.

"Sebastian," he said gently, walking forward cautiously. The other man looked at him, the only thing moving being his eyes. Sherlock stayed back as John got closer, slowly crouching next to him to place a hand on his arm. "Love, are you okay?"

Sebastian moved now, rubbing his hand over his eyes as he turned on his side. The book fell to the floor and John picked it up, placing it on the side table as Sebastian watched him. Sherlock watched the simple interactions, frowning at the feeling of intrusion that settled in his chest.

"Jim just walked out," Sebastian said as John stood up, taking off his coat. He tossed it over the other chair and sat on the couch as Sebastian scooted back against it to make room for him. "God, I haven't felt this since-"

He broke of suddenly and John leaned down to press a kiss to his temple. He remembered Sebastian telling him about the months following Jim's death. The days he spent cooped up in the flat, barely eating, staring at the ceiling. Occasionally there was drinking and then after there would be swearing and things would be broken.

"Sebastian, it's fine," John said gently, running his fingers through his hair. "He'll come back. Did he say where's he was going?"

"No. Just left," Sebastian stated as he sat up. He wrapped John in his arms and sighed, closing his eyes. There was silence for a moment or two before Sherlock cleared his throat. Sebastian looked up first and Sherlock was caught off guard by the desolate look in his eyes.

"So, Moriarty has returned and you've lost him," he commented airily, moving towards the pair. He settled in the chair Jim had occupied not an hour prior. John didn't move and Sebastian didn't give any indication of wanting to let him go. Sherlock allowed himself a moment to study the pair before saying anything. "I'll take the case."

"Excuse me?" John frowned.

"Moriarty is loose in London," Sherlock stated, as if that explained everything. At both their blank looks, he continued. "Someone has to find him before he gets into trouble. Naturally, that should be me."

The two exchanged looks, thoughts and emotions floating between them. Once again, Sherlock felt as though he were intruding on their lives. He shook his head and John looked at him with a raised eyebrow. He could practically hear the scolding. _At least_ try _to be sensitive._ He rolled his eyes. He _was_ being sensitive.

"Sebastian," he said, leaning forward so his elbows were situated on his knees. His voice seemed softer but that just caused a wary gleam to appear in the man's eyes. Right, sniper, military man, worked for a psychopath. Sherlock suspected Moriarty wasn't the kindest boss. Kindness probably meant trouble. Sherlock decided that a commanding tone was probably best. "Sebastian, you and John stay here in case he comes back. I'll track him down."

He stood to leave but Sebastian finally deemed it time to release John and stand up in front of him, halting his exit. They stared at each other for a moment, measuring each other up. This was a test. For both of them. For a moment, neither of them spoke. John looked between them, unsure as to what was happening.

"You don't know him well enough to go after him," Sebastian finally said. "You won't find him."

"You of all people should know not to underestimate me, Colonel," Sherlock replied easily. Another moment of silence followed. "I can guarantee his safety from the moment I find him to the moment I return him here."

"You better hope so, Holmes," Sebastian said, eyes narrowing. "I've already lost him once. I'll be damned if it happens again."

Sherlock jerked his head in a nod and looked down at John. If Sebastian protected John with that same ferociousness he displayed now, Sherlock could see no problem with any of this. John followed his gaze back to Sebastian and allowed a small smile on his lips.

"I'll be back," Sherlock said, smiling gently. "And it will be much quicker than the last time."

With that, he was gone, leaving in a sweep of his coat. Once the door shut, Sebastian allowed his shoulders to sag and he fell onto the couch next to John. John moved closer as he put his face in his hands, rubbing his back soothingly.

"He'll bring him back, Sebastian," he said. Sebastian sighed.

"I'm worried about that," he sighed, dropping his hands into his lap. "Jim would have come back by himself. It's the mayhem he could cause when he's in such a mood."

Jim walked down the street, hood pulled over his face as he glared at the sidewalk. It was _stupid_ to think he could come back. Stupid. Stupid. _Stupid._ He let out a growl as he stopped, dropping his head into his hands. He'd never been so idiotic before. Never let his emotions rule his mind. How idiotic of him.

He looked around. He had nowhere to go except back, which he refused to do. His empire had fallen apart, leaving him with nothing and nowhere. He felt rage flood through him and he had never wanted to kill someone so badly in his life. Yet, he couldn't. He couldn't put himself in the position of getting caught, not when he had only just returned home.

He closed his eyes, trying to compose himself. He calmed himself enough to give some thought to where he was going to go. The first place to pop into his head made him scoff. It would have to do for now. It wasn't like he had any other choice. Besides, it wasn't that far off from where he was.

Ten minutes later saw him on the roof. He stood at the ledge, not looking down but looking out over tops of the other buildings. Three years ago he was on top of the world and almost everyone cowered at his name. Now, he was nothing. He didn't have anything.

He closed his eyes. That wasn't true. He had Sebastian. He could handle that. After three years without him, he wanted nothing besides his Tiger. But he was going to lose him again, just as soon as he'd gotten him back.

He heard the door open behind and, in a sense of déjà vu, heard Sherlock's voice.

"I knew you'd be here."


	8. Chapter 8

Jim didn't turn around, his eyes still closed and hands stuffed in his pockets. He heard Sherlock's footsteps come closer but he still didn't move. He didn't want to. He wanted to stay in that same spot for as long as he could.

"You've gotten more predictable in the last three years," Sherlock said as he stopped next to him. Jim opened his eyes and looked over at him, making no other movement as he watched Sherlock pull a cigarette from his pocket. He put it between his lips and lit it. "I have to say I'm a bit disappointed."

Sherlock took a moment to look at him, studying him for a moment. A deep bruise graced his jaw and Sherlock suspected that Sebastian was to blame for it. It must have been a hard hit to leave such a dark mark. He refrained from commenting on it. He offered Jim a cigarette and Jim wrinkled his nose, shaking his head.

"I don't smoke," he stated, turning away again. Sherlock just shrugged, putting it away. "I told you on that day that it was the end, Sherlock. There are no more games for me. You've made sure that I didn't have the players to continue them."

Sherlock nodded, pulling the cigarette from his lips to exhale the smoke. It was quiet between them for several moments, the only sounds coming from the street below and the breeze whistling past their ears.

"I like to think of this as the beginning of a new chapter," he stated. Jim scoffed. "Maybe one not quite as fun as the last but we can't stop it, Jim."

"How poetic," Jim snorted.

There were a few moments of silence as Sherlock blew the smoke from his lungs and Jim stared forward. He let out a sigh as he took a step forward, onto the ledge.

"You're not going to jump, are you?" Sherlock asked, almost sounding bored. "I promised Moran I'd keep you safe and I'd rather not break his trust after just gaining it."

"Tell me, were you scared, Sherlock?" he asked in that airy way of his, ignoring Sherlock. He walked along the edge, his hands behind his back. He briefly considered jumping but he couldn't do that to Sebastian. Not again. He turned to look at Sherlock, who didn't know whether or not to be surprised about seeing the emotions warring in his eyes. "Were you scared seeing all those people below you, like ants as they scurried about their business? Scared knowing that you'd soon be falling to meet them?"

"No," Sherlock replied, dropping the cigarette to the ground and crushing it with his heel. "I was scared for everyone else. I knew what would happen to them if I didn't do it so I was scared for them."

Jim didn't answer as he stepped down and sat at the ledge. Sherlock sat next to him and the silence between them was almost companionable. They both knew what the other had to be going through. They needn't speak about it; they could just leave it there in that silence and be done with it. Yet, something in them compelled them to speak of this pain that tortured them.

"They're going to be happy, Jim," Sherlock said suddenly. Jim looked over at him gravely. "They're going to get married and probably start a family and there's nothing we can do about it besides be happy for them."

"Well, we could do something," Jim shrugged. "But they would hate us."

"Which is why we won't. We wouldn't be able to survive if they did."

There was another beat of silence and understanding between them. It was odd. Here they were, sitting where this entire mess had started and they both felt the same lonely ache in their chests. They had been idiots. They'd hurt the only people that had ever loved them and now…

"It's the end of an era, Sherlock," Jim said, a peculiar tone in his voice. Sherlock looked over at him.

"Indeed it is."

"You dismantled my web and my right hand man is getting married. He's given up this life and I don't know how I can continue with it."

"What are you saying?" Sherlock asked curiously. Jim shrugged.

"Maybe I'll write a book. The Life of James Moriarty, written by Richard Brook. Or maybe I'll do some fiction. Kill some characters, make people cry. I've seen that first hand. Sebastian once had a mental breakdown over a novel."

"You're giving up being a consulting criminal?"

Jim looked over at him, managing to keep his gaze controlled this time. It was cold and calculated, much like when they first met. That look was reserved specifically for times when Moriarty had a carefully constructed plan that he refused let fall to pieces. It was able to make people cringe at a single glance and terror would bloom in their chest. For Sherlock, however, that gaze was one of the most open emotions Jim wore. He could see the determined stubbornness that laced his eyes, however minutely.

"There's nothing for me in that life anymore, Sherlock. I'd reached my peak when I made you kill yourself. Nothing will be as fun as that," he replied easily. "I could bring the world to its knees but what's the _point_? I'd have all that power… and no one to share it with."

He looked down as he finished his voice growing quiet towards the end. He scoffed at himself and shook his head.

"Listen to me getting sentimental about him. Pathetic. I can't believe the mess that he's reduced me to," he said bitterly. He glanced sideways at Sherlock. "Is this how you felt about John? It's ridiculous. And painful."

"It is, yes," Sherlock agreed. He let out a light hum as he studied Jim. "But I think you'll agree with me when I say that they're worth it."

Jim didn't say anything. He didn't need to. Sherlock knew he was right. After all, Jim had been right when he said that they were the same. The silence between them wasn't strained. Even if it had been, both were too wrapped in their thoughts to notice. The reality of John and Sebastian's engagement was a hard one to accept, especially to them. They were both used to their companions being there for them that a world without them by their side… It was near impossible to imagine, not to mention upsetting.

After several moments of the loaded silence, Sherlock's phone slashed through it. He pulled it out of his coat pocket and glanced at the text from John.

"It seems we're missed," he drawled. Jim snorted, shaking his head. There was another silent moment. "It might be best that we not mention where we have been. I have already been punched once by John and I don't think it's something I want a repeat of."

* * *

I'm sorry if Jim and Sherlock seem OOC. I tried to keep them as close as possible.


	9. Chapter 9

Sebastian hummed as he moved about the kitchen and John sat at the table with a cup of tea in front of him, his eyes following the other man. It was calming to watch. Sebastian cooked with the same unerring adeptness he brought to all other aspects in his life. He was methodical, checking and double checking ingredients. He didn't allow himself to leave room for error.

"Has Sherlock responded?" Sebastian asked without looking up from the saucepan.

"No," John replied, looking at his phone. Sebastian sighed, shoulders taut.

"You don't think they've actually killed each other this time, do you?" he asked in what was probably supposed to be a joking manner but it fell flat to even his own ears. John studied him for a second and stood up, walking towards him to wrap his arms around his waist.

"I'm sure they wouldn't do that again, love," he said, resting his cheek against his shoulder. Sebastian just gave a small nod and continued cooking.

John noticed Sebastian thrived on control. Even the illusion of control calmed him. He assumed that was the reason that Sebastian enjoyed cooking; it gave him something he could control. In his old line of work, whatever wasn't controlled was a threat and if something wasn't perfect, it was a failure. John and Sebastian had argued and fought a few times because of this when they started getting serious but they had always apologized and Sebastian eventually got better about being controlling. But to John it seemed that Jim's arrival had triggered that same obsession with control.

"I'm sorry, John," Sebastian sighed.

"What for?"

"For… this entire situation. I shouldn't have let Jim in the flat. I shouldn't have asked you out. Everything would have been so much easier if we'd never started this."

"None of this is your fault, Sebastian," John said, pressing a kiss just under Sebastian's ear. "If it was anyone's fault, it was Jim and Sherlock's. They're the ones that faked their deaths."

"I guess you're right," Sebastian muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. He turned to kissed John gently. "As always."

John chuckled and Sebastian smiled at the sound.

"Honestly, I'm not right that often," he stated. "Besides, there's no reason that would ever make me regret meeting you."

Sebastian smiled and kissed his forehead. Neither had heard the front door. Jim and Sherlock had heard their conversation and were now exchanging glances. Jim swallowed and Sherlock looked as stoic as ever.

"They'd be happier if we just left," Jim whispered, knowing how stupid it sounded as he said it. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"You know it would hurt them both so much more if we did," he replied just as quietly. Jim sighed and they walked into the kitchen as Sebastian kissed John. Sherlock cleared his throat and they pulled apart. A smile bloomed across Sebastian's face and he wrapped an arm John.

"You guys actually made it back," John grinned.

"I told you I would bring Moriarty back in one piece," Sherlock said. He looked down at Jim for a moment and gestured to him vaguely. "And he looks completely whole to me so I would appreciate it if you didn't sound so surprised."

There was a pause and Jim frowned, sniffing the air.

"Seb, were you cooking?" he asked. Sebastian's eyes widened and he turned back to the stove. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Sebastian cooks?" he asked aloud, sounding less surprised and more frustrated with the fact he didn't know.

"It calms him down," Jim and John said simultaneously. They paused and looked at each other for a moment. Jim finally cleared his throat and looked away. Silence filled the room for an uncomfortable moment before Sebastian cleared his throat.

"Dinner's ready," he said, giving a slightly strained smile.

"As much as I would love to stay, I really should be going," Sherlock said.

"Don't you want to stay, Sherlock?" John asked. He looked Sherlock over critically and frowned. "You know what, you look like you haven't eaten in months. You're going to stay."

"I don't get a say in this?" Sherlock asked, looking to the other two for support.

"Don't look at me, mate," the larger of the two shrugged. "He's right."

Sherlock huffed a sigh and crossed his arms. He and Jim sat at the table and he leaned forward towards the other man.

"If I ran, how long do you think it'd take for them to catch me?" he whispered. Jim gave him a flat look.

"Not very far," he replied. "There's a reason Sebastian is my best."

"Was," Sherlock corrected absently and Jim paused for a moment before nodding.

"Was," he agreed.

Dinner passed slowly, going easily between strained conversation between Sebastian and John and tense silence. Eventually, what little conversation there was turned to the impending wedding and Jim and Sherlock finally joined.

"Obviously John will be in his dress uniform," Sherlock said. "Since Sebastian was dishonorably discharged, I'm sure he'll be in a normal tux."

"Yeah," Sebastian frowned. He narrowed his eyes. "How did you know I had a dishonorable discharge?"

"I may have checked your file," Sherlock said flippantly.

"My file? My _confidential_ file?"

"You _do_ know who my brother is, don't you?" Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Now, now, girls," John said gently, glancing between them. Sebastian didn't respond and Sherlock fell silent.

"Sebastian, do you even own one?" Jim asked. "As far as I remember, you've never worn one."

"That's because I haven't," Sebastian replied. "And, no, I don't one."

"I'd hoped that John had knocked some sense into you," Jim sighed, shaking his head. "No matter. We'll have you fitted for one."

Sebastian and John exchanged glances and stood up.

"Yes, well, it's getting late so I think we'll go to bed," John said and Sebastian nodded.

"You two get some sleep," he said sternly. "Goodnight."


End file.
